Davis 1 Dewhitte H. DavisDanielsENG 1301 February 13, 2004 Philosophy of Duck Hunting Party by night, sleep by day, classes never before 11 am, this is the rule of thumb for most college students, but rules are meant to be broken, especially during duck season. For most people they think of duck hunting as the slaughtering of poor innocent animals, and the desecration of the environmental balance, but obviously, they have never been duck hunting. Life is full of monotony and too much time is spent leading a life that serves no real purpose, so if you feel that sometimes your just another brick in the wall, maybe you should go for a duck hunt. The breaking darkness unfolds as the birth of a new day invades a good dream. Your hand hurts as you hit the snooze button with incredible force, it's still dark outside and you find yourself thinking "why the hell am I awake right now." Slowly rising to consciousness you realize, "Oh yeah! I'm going duck hunting." There's nothing like the feeling a man gets when he wakes up in the morning and gets to leave the house without shaving, showering, or matching -except for the green, brown, and black.

A bowl of cereal and a glass of Orange Juice, and out the door you go. All the things in the world, politics, war, hunger, Rogaine, Viagra, these things no longer concern you, it's all meaningless now. Davis 2 The one basic instinct that humans have lost, primarily due to modernization, is our basic instinct for survival, the little voice inside us all that cries out "eat or be eaten." The hunt, the kill, such a pre-modern necessity to our survival as a race, is now equivalent to an appendix. And that's where the addiction comes in, tapping into that primordial beast, is like uncovering a long lost treasure, not of gold or silver, but of instinct and survival.

You start to feel that feeling of man versus nature, as the thrill of the hunt pulls you deeper into the complexity of our basic instincts. The truck is parked, the waders are on, the shotgun is in hand, the primordial beast is ready to take over. The only thing standing between the past and present is a ten-minute walk in the dark, a walk into the past to a time when the only things that mattered were the basics. No air-conditioning or, television, video games, hot baths, just nature raw and real and untouched. The air is still and quiet as the ice breaks beneath the waders, and sink into the cold water.

You can barely make out the trees as you look to the horizon to see where the sun might peak over the horizon. You can see your breath as your hands burn from the penetrating cold. As the water gets deeper, the waders constrict around your legs and you become lighter. The smell of the methane bubbling up from the pockets deep beneath the suit smells bad but after a while, it's not so bad. When the decoy's are thrown out and all is in place it's time to get under cover. The dawn is breaking and you light up a smoke as the last minutes before the daylight hits.

You visualize all the possible directions that the ducks could come from, and imagine all the different kinds of ducks that your going to kill that day. There, at the Davis 3 zenith of your duck hunt, is a 10-minute period of time when the sun finally comes up and the duck hunt begins. At this point, the primordial beast is in full throttle, instincts take over, and you become an animal. You hear the ducks circling overhead, you start to blow your calls one by one, starting with the wood duck and working your way to the mallard feeding call. They take the bait. You can see the ducks heading straight for you, their wings cupped and cutting the wind as they make their approach.

Time slows down and you react without thinking. Waiting, waiting, waiting, then when the time is right you stand tall and point your gun. The ducks see you and start to pull out, but it's too late, their time is up. The ease of the trigger and then the loud "BOOM!" The blast makes you take a step back, and for a split second, you loose your bearing. Then you watch as the duck falls to the ground and the smell of gunpowder invades your nostrils.

The feeling you get when the duck falls to the ground is unlike anything you will find in a shopping mall or in the office. It's the feeling of victory. "All hail the primordial beast!".